Chapter Text
Kaiba swirled the lacquer-ware cup he'd had topped off immediately after finishing its predecessor. He wanted to be able to lie to himself and think he'd lost count of how many cups he'd downed, but he was well aware. He couldn't lose count if he tried. He grimaced at the clear, still sake as if it had contributed to his foul mood, but rather than a solution, all he found in its surface was a reflection of the low amber lighting of the bar's ceiling.
He sighed and took a sip. He'd ingested so much alcohol so quickly that the sting and intensity wasn't even noticeable anymore. He knew that was a bad thing, and that it would only make it easier for him to drink too much, but he wasn't in the proper state of mind to fight what he knew was a self-destructive course of action. A voice in his head, one that took the guise of another, chided him for wallowing in alcohol. That only made him drink faster. The reminder that there was no one in the seat beside him did nothing to improve the situation.
He was not at all ashamed to say that he'd grown accustomed to having company when he visited the gratefully authentic tiny bar in Little Tokyo, and was too drunk now to be ashamed to admit he was dismayed at the change. Not long ago, he wouldn't have imagined himself pining after Jonouchi Katsuya's company. He could feel disgusted with himself for allowing that to happen, but that horse was dead and beaten into a pavement smear. What had him wrangling with himself on this particular night wasn't even Jonouchi's absence-much as something felt wrong about not having him there at the moment, he was grateful for the solitude. It was odd to want someone around and wish to avoid them at once.
What he was actually brooding about was having Jonouchi close, not having him far away. The fleeting thought that Jonouchi might be close to someone else presently made him bristle sporadically, but he stubbornly chased that away by determinedly repeating to himself that he didn't want him around anyway. Kaiba was getting progressively less able to convince himself it was true just by thinking it over and over again, given the fact that the anger resulting from the thought was the only thing that broke up the despair he hoped enough sake would alleviate.
He supposed he had intended this to happen, in a way. He wanted Jonouchi. He had for quite a while. But he wasn't the type to chase someone simply because of a transient fancy. He'd spent so much time deliberating, working against his impulses, trying to keep any of what he was thinking from surfacing...only to have it all unraveled by a moment of weakness. He didn't like things happening that weren't planned. He had, despite continuing inner conflict, planned to eventually be intimate with Jonouchi. Eventually. He had not planned to lose control of himself because of a little alcohol.
He could at least comfort himself with the fact that things didn't go as far as they perhaps could have, but that may have been more because of Jonouchi than him. He didn't want to think about how much he would have done without some kind of intervention. Even a brisk kiss would have been a transgression when his intention had been to remain chaste. But, while he hadn't gone that far, he'd gone miles beyond just a kiss. Part of him wanted to be thrilled that it was partly because Jonouchi had been very receptive, but it wasn't exactly a comfort.
He knew and had known for a long time that Jonouchi was receptive to the physical. That was something Jonouchi was wholly unabashed about. Even within the duration of their friendship, Kaiba knew he'd had more hookups than could be counted on one hand. He preferred not to think how many he didn't know about. He tried to convince himself it wasn't his business, until he realized that he didn't care if it was or not. It didn't change the fact that he was-unduly, perhaps-possessive of Jonouchi. He was less than pleased with his own irrationality. He should be able to control feelings like that. Then again, it wasn't exactly something he'd been prepared for.
He didn't think many people could be prepared for Jonouchi, though. Plenty of people wanted him, or thought they did. Strangers on the street and high-profile socialites alike seemed nearly magnetically attracted to him. It wasn't that Jonouchi actively tried to draw everyone and anyone. His demeanor did that for him. He was comfortable. For a long time, he had been too comfortable for Kaiba, but that was practically another life. In the eyes of most people, Jonouchi's casual manner and constant energy, combined with a remarkable ability to listen despite what seemed like a short attention span, caught people's attention immediately.
That didn't mean they knew what they were getting into. Physically, Jonouchi was probably near flawless by American standards. He was Asian, but not "too" Asian. He didn't suffer the ever-hated double eyelids, nor were his features especially dark thanks to naturally blonde hair. He was of smaller frame than some American men, but nowhere near as slight as an average young adult Japanese male. And of course, California residents would approve of his physique. Jonouchi didn't even have to dedicate himself too much to the gym to put on muscle, nor did he have to work hard at controlling his eating to avoid weight gain. His physical advantages were evident, and Kaiba imagined (but tried not to imagine) that no one had any complaint with them.
What they might gripe about would be the fact that Jonouchi had no interest in going steady. He wasn't looking for the love of his life like most men and women their age claimed to be. He seemed immune to the starry-eyed infatuation associated with young adults; in his eyes, lovers came and went, the latter easily and often. Some people might have interpreted that as aloofness. Maybe it was. But Kaiba had learned and been forced to acknowledge that Jonouchi was free in every sense of the word, and nothing could ground him.
So no, the vast majority of people were likely unprepared for just the thing that drew them to Jonouchi-he was casual. He treated everyone the same, beggar or billionaire. He didn't prioritize a long-term relationship, and Kaiba feared that he may even be averted to them entirely. One of many reasons he was so incredulous at himself for doing anything sexual with Jonouchi before being absolutely certain that a relationship with him would be a good idea. Or, at least, until he was sure that Jonouchi completely understood what a relationship would entail.
Kaiba didn't want to be a notch in a headboard.
He indulged the unpleasant thought that he may well be, now; if Jonouchi wasn't here at the bar, then he was very likely off with someone else, wholly unaffected by the brief tryst they'd had or the discomfort that had followed. Kaiba tried to suppress the thought, telling himself that being spiteful toward himself wasn't going to help anything, but at the same time he felt he deserved it. He didn't have the willpower at present to compartmentalize and logic his way out of the negativity stewing around in his head, and the cups of sake he'd emptied weren't helping. He set down the most recent addition to their number, determining that it might be best to stop. The drinks were exacerbating the issue rather than making him unable to think about it. If he kept on until he couldn't think at all, he'd end up passed out on the table. That wouldn't have a good outcome on any level.
Kaiba stood with what he hoped was minimal effort, then paid his tab as gracefully as possible before exiting the bar. He wasn't quite drunk enough to sway on his feet, but only because he was still able to consciously avoid it. He also had his senses about him enough to know calling a cab was the best idea for getting home.
He did so, though communicating in English only caused another wave of sulking to pass over him. One of the only reasons he'd ended up in this mess was because Jonouchi at least spoke Japanese. Not in the best-mannered way or accent, but it was familiar, natural Japanese. Not an ear-gratingly American "konnichiwa" from his business associates or the out-of-context Japanese that left the mouths of countless teens and young adults as gracelessly as English from the Japanese youth back home.
He should have brought Isono with him, he thought. Then what was left of his rational mind reminded him that Isono was needed in Japan, not with him as a ward against homesickness. Jonouchi had served the purpose-at least to the degree of liking the same food and speaking the same language. He almost seemed more appropriately placed in American society. He was vulgar, blunt, and loud. He smiled at strangers on the bus and yelled when drivers put him in danger on the crosswalk. Kaiba had found those things about him upsetting in their teen years, and discomforting now. He still wasn't totally sure it was something he could get past, and it was unrealistic to expect Jonouchi to simply stop doing it.
It wasn't long before a cab pulled up to the curb, saving him from hiding himself in his coat once what heat was stored inside was neutralized by the cold. He had to repeat his address to the driver several times, partly because they both had accents (though they were far different in origin) and because Kaiba was simply too drunk to articulate his way around it. Eventually the driver at least seemed to understand, and started their course. Kaiba didn't have much choice but to trust him and wait, and even if he'd wanted to backseat drive the whole way there, he didn't think he could. The distraction was too much to allow for it.
He leaned against the right-side door of the car, his eyes wandering vacantly over the sidewalk they passed at high speed. It was fairly late, but there was still a respectable number of people bustling around, probably for the night life more than any constructive activity. It was only because of the night life in the area that he and Jonouchi had met again at all. He'd found out very quickly that Jonouchi indulged frequently in what the evenings had to offer, when he wasn't busy pursuing the hobby of dueling that he'd maintained. Kaiba didn't get much from a habit of going out and getting smashed alone surrounded by strangers when he could do just the same at home, but he'd needed something to break the monotony of his life in America.
He'd never really acclimatized to the new country. America was a practical place for him to be, and there was nothing...especially wrong with it, he supposed. But every one of the little things he'd liked about Japan were absent, and that had grown more obvious every day. His solution to his growing irrational disdain for a country that, for all intents and purposes, had welcomed him warmly, was to bury himself in his work. It had been effective-for a while. But even he felt the burden of stress eventually, and the quality of his employees' work had a marked decline over time as his micromanaging intensified. Cooping himself up in the house to work wasn't much better, and since the only alternative was staring at the wall, he'd concluded with great disdain that he'd have to at least try going out.
The lucky thing about California was the high population of Asians, far Eastern and otherwise. Chinatown was a well-known term by all Americans, but perhaps less notorious was the Japanese community. It wasn't perfect, by any means-many parts of it reflected the tackiest aspects of home. But the food, faces, and language were familiar, as was the sensation of being the tallest person within ten miles.
His reasons for visiting what had become his regular watering hole had been very different from Jonouchi's-as different as their general schedules. Yet, fate had conspired to land them there at the same time, on the same night. Years ago, Kaiba might have turned heel to leave an establishment and never return if he saw Jonouchi even breathing near it. However, time to grow into an adult, and the long separation, had made him more astonished than anything. It made a small, wry smile creep across his face now, but at the time he'd been in surly disbelief that somehow, he always crossed paths with Jonouchi against his intentions. What were the odds that the one night he wandered into a semi-promising bar in Little Tokyo, he'd run into the one person in the entire state of California that he knew? And didn't necessarily want to see?
SIX MONTHS PREVIOUS
Kaiba couldn't help but notice him the moment he crossed the threshold of the bar. It wasn't because he was being particularly observant; it was because the shock of yellow in a low-lit sea of deep brunette and true black was impossible not to investigate. Even as he'd looked closer, he'd started to assume it was just some trendy kid with a fresh dye job. But when he saw the person the hair was attached to, he knew without having to approach that his roots matched his tips.
Jonouchi was having a fantastic time all by himself, apparently, chatting with the bartender as his cup was filled and smiling at anyone who walked within three feet of him. He didn't especially seem to notice when the smiles he received in response were on the smoky side. Kaiba wasn't completely sure what to do. His first thought was to leave, briskly. That didn't have much staying power in his mind; it was immature to do, wasn't it? He was a grown man. He didn't have to leave to avoid someone who might annoy him.
"Hey you," yelled out Jonouchi with a wide smile, pointing directly at Kaiba before laughing aloud, "yes, you, smart guy. You look lost. Want a drink?"
Kaiba's first impulse was to be offended, but that was more his temperament than anything especially idiotic Jonouchi had done. He was too confused to be truly angry-could Jonouchi be so drunk that he couldn't see him properly? After a few more seconds' hesitation, Kaiba allowed curiosity and the possibility of imported drinks to lead him to the seat beside him.
"No one who walks into a bar is lost," Kaiba replied in much less stilted English. Then he continued a bit more quietly in Japanese: "Surely, you recognize me now that I'm a foot away. You'd be on the floor if you had tunnel vision that awful."
Jonouchi blinked once, slow to respond, before breaking into another sharp fit of laughter. "Holy shit," he answered in broken English, shaking his glass in his hand as sake spilled off the rim, "I thought you were some Korean guy. You look like a popstar. What are you, a duelist? Have I played against you before? I'm honestly not good with faces when I'm drunk," he joked, taking a drink before grabbing at a stick of yakitori, "You gotta tell me who you are."
Kaiba sat motionless for what felt like a long time, but it could only have been a second or two. His eyes had widened without his notice, his lips slightly parted in utter shock as he tried in vain to determine whether Jonouchi was playing some kind of joke on him. If that was the case, he sure as hell wasn't going to take the bait. But Jonouchi was so drunk, and the idea so clever beyond his means, that Kaiba concluded he must really be that stupid. He inhaled a sharp breath, lip curling as his eyes narrowed, offense taking the place of astonishment.
"Every time I think you can't be more of an idiot…" he began in a mutter. When Jonouchi only raised his eyebrows and seemed confused, as if he hadn't heard, he sighed in exasperation. "Yes, we've dueled before, Jonouchi. And I won."
"Eh, It happens," answered Jonouchi back cooly. He didn't seem that bothered by that fact. He just waved for the bartender, ordering another drink, this time two bottles of Kirin beer, passing one to Kaiba despite not asking if it was even desired. "Do you have some vendetta against me then, guy? Doesn't make sense if you managed to beat me."
"Not especially," Kaiba replied, stunned again by the fact that Jonouchi hadn't even been concerned enough to review his loss history for who he might be speaking to. "I can't say it was overly important to me."
"But you cared enough to remember my name," answered Jonouchi slyly. "So that must mean something."
Kaiba schooled his expression and stared back at Jonouchi levelly. What could he even say to that? He didn't want to start a fight by reminding Jonouchi that the only reason he remembered was because he'd been such a yappy little blockhead about facing off. That, and he'd been a constant companion to Kaiba's actual vendetta. He chose not to bring it up. If nothing else, than because he might be accused of protesting too hard.
"It's a common name," he reasoned in a dismissive tone, "And there aren't many Japanese with your features."
"Oh," laughed Jonouchi, ruffling his hair a little before winking at Kaiba playfully, "you remembered who I am because you liked my hair. Whatever, man. Play cool however you want..."
Kaiba was struck with the realization that Jonouchi might have waved him over with a goal in mind. He'd been too bewildered to think about it previously, but his responses and choice of...interpretation was giving definite vibes.
"I don't have to put much effort into being "cool"," Kaiba began a bit absently before regaining his senses, "And what does it matter to you if I liked your hair?"
"Good question," answered Jonouchi with a small smile. He didn't seem keen on answering it any further. Instead, he took another drink of his beer, just giving Kaiba a cheeky side glance before playing with the condensation on the bar table. "Let me ask you a question. Your accent is faint but I can hear it, sounds very familiar. What part of Japan are you from?"
Kaiba paused to indulge in a small sip of the drink he'd been given. It gave him a short opportunity to think, and drinking was what he'd come for anyway. He debated how to answer the question before settling on remaining cryptic. The situation was shaping up to be at least a little more interesting than it might have been if they'd immediately recognized each other.
"I'm from Osaka," he replied. It wasn't untrue, but it wasn't especially helpful, either. "And you?"
"Shizuoka prefecture," answered Jonouchi honestly, "I grew up in Domino City, which is a small city near Kanagawa... You don't sound Osakan. Either you're lying to me or you're very good at hiding your accent."
"I'm a businessman," Kaiba supplied, "An Osaka accent doesn't serve my means. I only lived there for a short time, anyway."
"Oh, you're one of those guys," Jonouchi snorted, "a salaryman. Probably just here on business before you go back home, right? I see your type all the time in here."
He began chewing on his meat stick again in earnest. It looked like chicken liver. Kaiba wasn't entirely opposed to it.
"What's this? Don't tell me you have a vendetta against me now," Kaiba smirked as he leaned forward more comfortably on the bar, still nursing his drink. "It's not your business, but I live here on a permanent basis. Since traveling businessmen apparently aren't good enough for you."
"Aren't good for me," Jonouchi corrected. "They don't make good friends."
That made Kaiba pause momentarily, but he brushed it off and shrugged.
"The fact that I live in town doesn't mean I'll make a better one."
"Who said anything about me even considering you for anything," laughed Jonouchi. He was seemingly amusing himself, making small animals out of the water droplets on the counter before wiping it on his pants. "I like conversation, even bad ones. I'm too drunk to care about anything right now..."
"Evidently," Kaiba snorted, "If you're entertaining yourself by calling after strangers you think are Korean. Though it seems you've lost interest in whatever was on your mind when you did."
"I thought you might be interesting." Jonouchi shrugged. "If you're a business type, then you probably aren't wearing contacts, are you? Now that I can see you better, you don't look like one of those surgery junkies, either."
"I've been very fortunate," Kaiba remarked dryly. "So, does that mean your boundaries don't extend to strangers, but they do extend to foreign businessmen and people with plastic surgery?"
"Why do you care," Jonouchi challenged, making a face before rolling his eyes, "It's not like you're actually offended about it..."
"I can get offended, if you like," Kaiba schooled his face against a smirk. Now he was admittedly just toying with Jonouchi. Only a little. Come morning, he might put two and two together, but at least for now, by some miracle, he thought he was talking with a stranger. It wasn't a frequent occurrence in Kaiba's life. "But I don't see a reason to. As for my curiosity-I'm just wondering what it would really take to turn you off. Aside from married interlopers."
"That's not really any of your business," smirked Jonouchi before he waved the bartender again. He seemed to know before words could even be exchanged that it was time to give the bill, and Jonouchi sloppily took care of it, seeming unsure almost of what he was even reading on the receipt. "Don't tease if you aren't interested. That's just mean."
"Hmm. Maybe. If nothing else, it might be rude, considering you did go through the trouble of buying me a drink," Kaiba noted, glancing at his half-finished bottle. Jonouchi had evidently given up, which was probably for the best-if he'd been more persistent, it would have been uncomfortable. Perhaps more for Jonouchi than for him, at least after he figured out who he'd been after.
"It's also rude to call after strangers you find attractive, and then blow them off because you're bored," he added as Jonouchi seemed to be signing his bill. He was drunk enough that holding a pen had apparently become unfamiliar.
"I'm a rude person," he answered under his breath, "Manners don't get anyone anywhere worth going."
"I can't exactly argue," Kaiba replied, though he had a feeling Jonouchi had mainly been grumbling to himself. "I suppose I wouldn't be sitting here in the first place if you had any manners."
"Exactly. So a part of you, however hidden behind that walled up exterior, was interested," pointed out Jonouchi as he got himself up, grabbing one last stick of chicken before sticking it in his mouth, bobbing it up and down with his tongue, "or you're just too cheap to pay for your own drinks. Whichever."
Kaiba had to stop himself from bursting into laughter at that. Instead, he stood as well, bottle in hand.
"Are you saying that because you're trying to win an argument, or because you want me to be interested that badly?" He asked, only partly masking the amusement in his tone. If they were younger, he might have taken the opportunity to be cruel, but the idea seemed unappealing to him now.
"If we've dueled before, then you should know already, I don't care about winning or losing that much. I just like playing the game."
He turned to leave rather quickly. Suddenly Jonouchi was a flash of blond hair, darting towards the door as cold air hit Kaiba before it became warm around him again.
Jonouchi stood against the bar's front entrance, fiddling with his phone as he ate with his free hand. He didn't look good at juggling things in his hand, but he didn't appear to care too much about dropping something, either. Then his eyes lit up before he let his phone glow in front of him, a feminine voice in Japanese giving him directions.
Kaiba looked after him for a second or two, deliberating, then decided to follow. He didn't have anything more interesting to do, sadly enough, and drinking alone at the bar didn't sound especially stimulating by comparison. Besides-wasn't it better to not let stumbling drunk people walk home alone? Little Tokyo it may have been, but they were still in America.
"Hey, you," Kaiba called as he strode after Jonouchi, mimicking his less-than-polite address from earlier. Jonouchi either didn't notice, or just didn't feel like standing still. Or pausing in the act of stripping his meat on a stick, but that was to be expected. Kaiba didn't call after him again; Jonouchi was shuffling, so he caught him up quickly enough. He'd notice someone walking directly beside him eventually.
"Hey, you," Jonouchi mimicked, a dumb smile plastered on his face, "what do you want?"
"Well, the short answer is entertainment, I suppose," Kaiba snorted. "If I wanted to drink quietly by myself, I could have stayed home. Besides, I'd hate to be left wondering if you tripped into something dangerous on your way home."
He said it in a teasing tone, but when he thought back to what a spaz Jonouchi had been when they were teenagers, he wondered if maybe he should be concerned. Or, at least, Jonouchi should be. But he hardly ever seemed concerned about anything, least of all his bodily health.
"Hmmm, I do this all the time," Jonouchi answered without losing a beat. "I like to walk alone, sometimes. Especially when it's winter and the air gets brisk, I can really think to myself.
"Or rather, maybe I could if I wasn't so drunk," he laughed. His arm reached out and grabbed Kaiba's shoulder for support before he stabilized himself and continued on like nothing had happened. Kaiba frowned only slightly out of irritation. It occurred to him that maybe he should be angrier that Jonouchi was so comfortable being familiar with his person, but it didn't seem that important. Maybe because he was too drunk to know what he was doing.
"Maybe you should skip the philosophizing tonight and concentrate on walking, then," Kaiba suggested. "I know it's been a while, but you never struck me as the type to enjoy time alone to think."
"If we just dueled once, then you probably don't even know me that well, pal," laughed Jonouchi as he rolled his eyes and waved a hand. "I haven't been in Japan for three years, at least. So, you probably dueled against me when I was still an ameutur. Which means," Jonouchi continued, slurring his English horrendously as Kaiba cringed, "You probably didn't know me well to begin with.
"Clearly I don't remember you, since I don't even know who you are..."
"Clearly," Kaiba agreed, though with a very sarcastic tone. After a moment's pause for thought, he continued more flatly, his face set in a frown. "Maybe for the best. We did meet, but in most ways we didn't know each other very well. Even if we had…"
He glanced at Jonouchi, who seemed to be trying to pay attention, but was distracted by how difficult it apparently was for him to put one foot in front of the other safely.
"...You've changed a lot."
Or he had. Or both. It didn't really matter. Even if they were completely the same, the circumstances were nothing like they had been years ago.
"You aren't going to tell me your name, are you?" Jonouchi blinked before stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, letting out a sigh as he crossed his arms against his shoulders. He looked up, his eyes gazing over the front garage of a car shop before he began fiddling with his keys. "That's okay, though," he answered, flickering his eyes back at Kaiba with a smile, "I like a guy with some mystery to him."
"Oh?" Kaiba quirked an eyebrow. "I won't spoil it for you, then. I'd hate to leave knowing you still think I'm boring."
He was at least halfway confident that Jonouchi would solve the mystery when he sobered up. If he remembered any of it. The prospect of him forgetting this evening seemed oddly upsetting, though. It was bad enough that Jonouchi had forgotten him once. He couldn't think of anyone else on the planet who would have, after everything that had happened. Even after years apart. But Jonouchi had always been...special.
Jonouchi stopped in front of a side door, opening up to what appeared to be a stairway up into the dark leading to what probably was an apartment. He was living above a car garbage. It was likely that he was working there, too. Kaiba knew now after seeing this place that he wouldn't forget it.
"I would have liked you better if you were Korean though," Jonouchi answered with a wink, "They know how to have fun unlike you Japanese businessmen. Sayonara, stranger. Maybe I'll remember you in the morning, but I doubt it!"
He walked past the threshold and closed the door. Jonouchi was gone, behind a bolted door, probably trying to lug his drunk ass up a set of steep stairs to go pass out somewhere. Kaiba just stood there for a second, soaking it all in before snorting to himself.
He started to walk back the way he came, not because it was more constructive a way to get home than hailing a cab, but because he didn't want to go home just yet. His hotel room provided comforts tailored to his tastes, but even the tackiest parts of Little Tokyo were better at staving off melancholy. At least for the moment. He still had a drink to finish, anyway.
He gazed at the half-empty bottle, pondering what had just happened, but he shook himself out of it. It wasn't important enough to spend time analyzing. He could admit that it had been an abnormally not-awful interaction between himself and Jonouchi. Then again, at least for that short time, Jonouchi hadn't known who he was, so maybe it didn't count.
It didn't matter. Jonouchi wasn't as obnoxious as he'd been in the past, but he still didn't seem overly bright. Odds were he'd forget everything by morning, and Kaiba didn't plan to run into him again. Why should he? He doubted things would go as smoothly if Jonouchi both knew who he was looking at, and wasn't half-trying to get into his pants.
Kaiba absently sipped at his beer as he strolled, his mind wandering back to the bar despite his attempts to steer it away. Unhappy as it made him to acknowledge, there wasn't anything more interesting to think about. What did it say about his life when a drunk moron hitting on him was a more preoccupying thing to analyze than his work? Or-
Or what? He didn't do much else.
He grimaced as he finished his drink, then quickly sought out a bin to dispose of it. Suddenly, being out didn't seem much better than being in. He deliberately swept any further thought about Jonouchi out of his mind as he hailed a cab.